


Standard Procedure

by SaltCore



Series: Making Luck [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hurt Jesse McCree, Justice Siblings, M/M, Protective Hanzo Shimada, but the magic is handwavey, deadeye is magic, inlaws who tolerate each other very much, protective Fareeha Amari
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 16:10:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14405733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltCore/pseuds/SaltCore
Summary: Fareeha never expected to find Hanzo Shimada at her door asking for help. But where her brother is concerned, how could she refuse?





	Standard Procedure

**Author's Note:**

> I just needed more Fareeha and Hanzo interaction apparently, and this got too long for tumblr.

Fareeha had just settled into bed when the knocking on her door starts. She ignores it at first, but it doesn’t stop, instead morphing into a frenetic banging. She throws the blanket off and stalks to the door, well on her way to irate. She wrenches the door open so hard it bounces off the inside of its housing then creeps a few centimeters shut again before friction stops it.

Hanzo is standing there, hand still raised. He looks not himself. Usually, he’s well put together, standoffish and stern, haughty even. Now he’s dressed in a t-shirt and mesh shorts—workout gear, still sweaty—with his hair down. He is staring at her with wide eyes and a clenched jaw. Frightened, if she's any judge.

Her SOP for dealing with her big brother’s partners has always been complete noninterference. The less she knew about his sex life the better, and no relationship had gone the distance to truly become a significant part of her life. Only two or three men had even been introduced to her mother; Gabe might have met a few more, by dint of spending more time in Jesse’s section of barracks. So it’s something of a surprise to see Hanzo here, looking afraid.

“What is it?” she says, just shy of snapping. She feels a sympathetic sense of unease. Hanzo doesn’t spook easily.

“Please, there’s something wrong with Jesse, I need your help,” he says in one breath.

“Go get Angela, Jesus Christ, I’m not a medic!” she says.

“No, it’s—,” Hanzo looks around, then hisses. “It’s _his eyes_.”

Fareeha inhales sharply. The beginnings of panic start to muddle the edges of her thoughts, but she clamps down on it.

“How long?” she says as she steps into the hallway, pulling her door shut behind her.

“I’m not sure, I just returned from the gym, and he was lying in bed _whimpering_ , and I couldn’t wake him up. There’s—there’s blood Fareeha,” Hanzo says, rambling in a whisper. He sounds like he’s already panicking.

She strides down the hall and punches in the code to Jesse’s door, then pulls it open. From the hallway light, she can see Jesse on the bed. She steps inside, leaving Hanzo to shut the door behind them. She can already tell from here it’s bad. She sits on the edge of Jesse’s bed and tilts his head so she can see better. There’s blood crusted around his right eye, and a thin sheen of sweat on his face. Even so, he feels cold to the touch. He’s making small noises in his throat, like a frightened animal, and his fingers are twitching.

“Get me a wet washcloth, warm water,” she says. Hanzo doesn’t even ask why, he just darts into the bathroom. Fareeha starts going through the drawers in Jesse’s desk and then the ones built into the bed, before finally finding what she’s looking for in the canvas bug out bag on the floor of his closet.

There’s a few dozen thin sticks of incense and a bottle wrapped in a plastic bag at the bottom of the bag, along with a lighter. She grabs a glass from his desk and drops two sticks of incense into it, lighting each. Hanzo is standing awkwardly at the foot of the bed, holding the washcloth. She holds her hand out for it and opens the bottle. When Hanzo shoves it into her hands, she lets a few drops of the tincture inside dribble out onto the washcloth.

She rubs the washcloth against itself, spreading the tincture around as best as she can, then folds it up and lays it over Jesse’s eye. She holds it there, murmuring words Jesse himself had taught her years and years ago under her breath. Prayers seem silly in the light of day, like something she would never admit to believing in, but as her words fade into the air and the smoke curls around them Jesse begins to quiet. Real sleep replaces the delirium, and he goes limp, even starts snoring softly.

A quiet falls in the room. Neither she nor Hanzo even breathes for a moment.

“What was that?” Hanzo asks.

“Part of how he can do what he does.” She bites her lip, unsure of how much to say. It’s not her secret to tell. “There’s a price.”

Hanzo nods, like he understands. Maybe he does. He sits on the foot of the bed, reaching out and placing a hand on Jesse’s shin. He still looks frightened.

“And this,” he gestures broadly, but he could only mean the incense and the cloth. “This stops it? Pays it?”

“He has to pay it on his own, but this helps.”

Hanzo nods. Fareeha looks back at her brother. He’d gotten back from the field that morning, so perhaps she should have pressed him to _do something_ in preparation, but he’d seemed fine. Maybe he’s rationing—she’s never known where he’d gotten his tools to help with these, these episodes. This isn’t the first time she wishes she did.

He must have told someone else _before_ what was in the bottle and what kind of incense and when to use them, but he’d never mentioned it to her if he had. When she was very young, she’d thought this glimpse into his Deadeye was a secret he’d only entrusted to her. A solemn burden, meant only for a sister. She had taken it as seriously as if they’d shared blood. Still did.

“What do I need to do?” Hanzo asks in a strangled voice.

“Ask him in the morning, but the gist is—light the incense, and get the stuff in the bottle on his eye. There are words too. He’ll teach you better than I can.” Fareeha tries to sound flip for Hanzo’s sake. It’s serious, deadly serious, but so much of it is on Jesse. The worry would drive her crazy if she focused on what she couldn’t control.

Hanzo sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. Maybe it’s unfair to the others, but Hanzo is certainly the first one of Jesse’s partners she’d seen so _worried_ over him. The first she’d seen wanting to help. The first that had come to her. It makes her like Hanzo just a little bit more.

“He should be okay in the morning,” she says.

“Are you sure?”

Fareeha shrugs.

“He always has been.”

Hanzo’s lips thin, his shoulders curl inward. The look on his face is hard, more like what she’s come to expect from him.

“How do I stop this from happening?”

“Get him to retire,” Fareeha huffs. Hanzo shoots her a sharp look, but she just shrugs again. “He knows what he’s doing. I don’t like it, but I’m—I’m used to it.”

Hanzo runs his fingers down Jesse’s shin to his ankle, then back up, contemplative. The incense has gotten cloying, but Fareeha doesn’t dare wave it away. At least the smell isn’t unpleasant.

“Is there anything else we can do?” Hanzo asks.

“Not really. I think it’s over anyway.”

Fareeha pats her brother twice on the shoulder, then gets to her feet. Hanzo probably needs the space anyway. She goes to the door, but just before her hands lights on the handle Hanzo speaks.

“Thank you, for helping him.”

“Of course. He’s my brother.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm usually hanging out at https://saltytothecore.tumblr.com/


End file.
